Page 39 of Dauntless
There was no answer, but I wasn’t expecting one by now.John Coldwell was clearly gone, and so was whoever else had been here.
My stomach clenched.
Eddiehad been here.Eddie, who was distraught at losing his diary.If he’d thought John Coldwell had taken it—and why wouldn’t he think that?The whole island thought John was responsible for attacking Eddie, so why not this as well?—then could he have snapped and hurt him?
I wanted to say it was impossible, but I’d known Eddie for three days.Knowing someone for three days was the same as not knowing them at all, surely.As hard as it was to think of Eddie’s smile, to think of Eddie’s kisses and the way he gasped as he came, to think of Eddie as anything apart from someone that Iliked—and maybe even more than liked—I’d be a fool not to consider the possibility that Eddie might have done this.Except I didn’t believe it.I couldn’t imagine Eddie ever being violent.It was like trying to force a piece of a jigsaw puzzle into a space that it just didn’t fit, and never would, however hard you tried to bash it in.
I stepped outside the museum, pulling the front door shut so that Hiccup couldn’t get inside.
I looked up and down the street.
Emily Barnes was walking up from the jetty, dragging a plastic tub on wheels behind her.The tail of a skipjack tuna jutted out one end.
“Have you seen John Coldwell today?”I called out to her.
“Not today,” she said, stopping.“But I was fishing round the point with Little Harry on his dad’s boat.”
More like canoodling in the wheelhouse.“If you see him, tell him I’m looking for him.”
“Okay,” Emily said, and continued on her way, the wheels on the tub squeaking.
I dragged a hand through my hair.
Where the hell was John Coldwell?And did Eddie have anything to do with his disappearance?Jesus.It was all such a mess now.I should’ve headed back to the lighthouse and got on the radio to notify the police.Except even if they headed straight out, they’d still be hours away, and I needed to find some answers before then.
I looked down the street towards the statue of Josiah Nesmith, and the church just beyond it.I drew in a breath to steel my resolve, then headed for the church with Hiccup beside me.
* * *
The last time the church bell had rung out in warning across the island, I’d been in Sydney and my dad’s boat had been smashed on the rocks out from the point.The islanders had pulled two men out of the water that day, but lost three.At least I’d had a body to bury; my best friend Will Harper hadn’t got his father back from the sea that had drowned him.
I’d listened to Amy recounting the story, days later and in choking sobs, of how the first she knew anything was wrong was the ringing of the church bell.
Katrina Finch was the first person to run to the church now, followed closely by Short Clarry and Mavis Coldwell, and then the men who’d been unloading at the jetty.Will Harper was with them, his face drawn, and I knew the sound of the bells was as awful to him as it would have been to Amy, if she’d been here today.For once I was glad she was still on the mainland.
“What’s going on, Red Joe?”Short Clarry demanded.“What’s happened?”
“There’s blood in the museum,” I said, “and John Coldwell is missing.Has anyone seen him today?”
It turned out that Mavis had been the last to see him, when John Coldwell had stopped in for a cup of tea.
“Was this before or after you sent Eddie Hawthorne down to see him?”I asked.
“Before,” Mavis said.“About an hour or so before.”
My heart sank.“Has anyone seen Eddie Hawthorne?”
John Dinsmore had caught a glimpse of someone on Seal Beach on the western side of the island, but he’d been out in his boat at the time and couldn’t say who it was.The bloke had been in a red jacket though, and that must have been around lunchtime.
“I knew no good would come of a Hawthorne on the island,” Mavis announced, clicking her tongue.
The bell brought more of the islanders over the next hour or so, but none of them had seen John Coldwell or Eddie Hawthorne since earlier in the day.Even Young Harry Barnes, who’d hiked into the village all the way from his shack, hadn’t seen them, and Young Harry Barnes usually knew where everyone was even before they knew it themselves.
I led a small delegation of islanders to the museum, Short Clarry and Young Harry Barnes among them, to show them the blood and the evidence of a fight.
Short Clarry scratched his thinning hair and sucked in his lower lip in consternation.“What on earth is going on lately, Red Joe?What on earth?”
I couldn’t have summed it up better myself.
